How to Make a Cake
by Jazz7
Summary: When it comes to love, guys and girls have never really had a clue about what it's about. In this collection of one-shots, a Nobody asks how to bake a cake and a sheep turns into a wolf. Anything can happen when love is involved.
1. How to Make a Cake

**Author's Notes:** Hi, here. I decided to do something different from Kingdom Hearts: Soul Taker (Or Fairytale as it is titled now). I have a revision in the works and a bunch of one-shots for that work, but this doesn't concern those.

This is a Naminé/Riku and is apart of a various collection of one-shots dealing with the KH universe and all its comedy and romance entitled "Boys Club".  
I started on this in response to all the yaoi involving KH. And while I do love yaoi (and smut) I wanted to see some regular pairings once and awhile too. So yeah, not against yaoi, but wanted to see these pairings. That's all.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Boys Club

1st Story:

Title: How to Make a Cake

Summary: (Prequel to KH2) Naminé innocently asks Riku how to make a cake. And this, like all things, starts everything.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes innocent and her mouth parted in question.  
Riku was trapped and he knew it. He should have never started this. Of course a Nobody...

"Hey, Riku, are we through mixing it?"

...Wouldn't know how to bake a cake.

"How..." Riku paused, his head pounding. This was a nightmare—a total nightmare. "How the hell can you get batter on a vaulted ceiling!?"

Indeed, what had started out as a vanilla raspberry cake with sugar cream icing with strawberries and pineapple had ended up being a vanilla and raspberry covered ceiling fan with eggshells and cream.

"How...How...How...?" Riku smacked his head against the wall. This was not happening...This just was not happening. Not here. Not now.

Naminé licked her fingers and then pulled on the end of his coat sleeve. "When are we going to add the berries?"  
There were a hundred things he would have liked to say to her right now. But "berries" weren't it. And so, to prevent himself from grabbing her by the throat, throwing her upon the ruin that had been a cake, and strangling her till Ansem came back tomorrow morning, he just continued beating the wall.

"How...How...How...?"

It just wasn't possible.

Taking a deep breath Riku turned to Naminé only to find her gone.

* * *

It had taken him five hours to clean up the kitchen and there still was batter in a few places on him and the kitchen he would rather not mention.

Maybe he had taken things a little too badly. How could he expect a Nobody to possibly listen, understand, and be able to successfully complete a command? It wasn't like they were human, so it only stood to reason she would be like this. He had asked the impossible of her.

"Naminé, I'm not mad. Look, I made another cake! You can add the berries to this one!"

Damn kid, he shouldn't have to do this work. Why did Ansem leave her care to him? He wanted to leave here, but Sora and Ansem held him back. He just had to wait. Just be patient.  
But Riku was going crazy being here. Taking care of her wasn't bad, Naminé listened to (almost) everything he said and didn't give him any problems yet... He longed for the day when things would go back to normal. Even if that day meant that he could never see his friends again. Even if it meant his unhappiness.

Or Naminé's death. A death which Naminé did not know was her fate. Cruelly, both Ansem and Riku kept it from her.

Or at least Riku knew she had no knowledge of. Riku stopped pacing the gardens and looked down at his gloved hands, the dark skin showing where the leather stopped at his wrist. Her fate, his fate. Put in context he couldn't hate her. He felt sorry for her. He knew what she was, that she wasn't a person—she didn't have a heart like he did and so was not alive or worth his pity, yet the thought of the girl that had tugged innocently at his shirt sleeve, the same girl who had smiled at him without flinching at his appearance when they had met again, and the same girl which had asked him with that same smile to teach her baking, the thought of that girl dying bought him pain.

An enemy Nobody passed right before his eyes, drifting out of sight behind one of the ruined statues in the mansion's garden. His heart skipped a beat.

That innocent girl didn't know how to defend herself.

Her smile flashed before his eyes and he raced after the Nobody, screaming her name.

"Naminé?!"

Riku turned the corner and there she was. Her knees pressed to her chest and her back to him, drawing pictures in the sand with a stick. So absorbed that she didn't turn at the call of her name.

"Naminé..."

She didn't have a heart. She wasn't a person. Yet in that moment she was 15 and she was lovely. Just a blond girl a little too short and a little to skinny for her age in a white sun dress drawing in twilight.  
"Naminé..." He didn't know why he called her name with such longing, or what the heart wrenching feeling in his chest was. Riku just knew it was lovely and fragile, impossibly small and light, something which if glanced at would disappear in a flash of light never to return.

Naminé, as if finally sensing a presence, stiffened and turned her head slightly to the right, the stick stilled by her fingers.

"Riku?"

He couldn't explain what had made him bridge the gape between them. Or what had made him hold on to her like that. Even now, with everything over and done with and Sora and Kairi and their worlds back to normal, he couldn't explain why he had held on to her so desperately.

Except maybe it was because she was a girl and he was a guy. And she had wanted to bake a cake and in the middle of an argument she had left and he had chased after her. And maybe, after all that running, he wanted someone to catch him as he fell.

The stick dropped from her hands. Naminé leaned against him and Riku held on to her, his fingers digging into her shoulders painfully. Possessively. Purposefully.  
She was needed. And that's her explanation for the whole thing. Looking back on it, a heart inside of the heart of the girl that had loved him once, that moment was the first time she had ever been needed.

Did they love? Did she love him?

Did it matter?  
"I thought... I thought I had lost you..." Riku buried his face into her neck. Naminé's lips parted, a question upon her lips, but then she closed her mouth and brought a hand up to his platinum hair, his dark skin.  
_"You didn't lose me, I'm right here."_ Words unspoken.

Did she know of her fate, looking into the twilight with this boy trapped in an adult's body?

Again, did it matter?  
When you bake a cake, you don't ask the how and whys. You just do. You follow the recipe or throw it away and make your own.

That's how you bake a cake.

* * *

She looked up at him, her blue eyes innocent and her mouth parted in question.  
Riku was trapped and he knew it. He should have never started this.

"Riku...?"

"Hm?"

Naminé looked up at him and smiled, tugging at the hand clasped around her own. "You skipped a step."

Riku frowned. The arrogance of this girl... The onslaught of a headache.

"I did not. Now do you want to learn how to make this thing or not?"  
"I'm not talking about the cake."

Naminé leaned over the almost finished product and managed to catch his lips.

"You're suppose to kiss a girl after you catch her."

Riku's eyes widened and he dropped the spatula. Naminé just laughed.

That girl, that Nobody.

Yet in his eyes she was only 15.

"Why didn't you tell Sora and Kairi about this? You're a pretty good baker!"  
"Shut up about it or the next thing I'll bake is you!"

"Ha, ha, Riku's shy!"

"Whatever. Hey, don't--"  
And that was all that mattered.

(How to Bake a Cake—End 2/29/08)


	2. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Notes:** I hope you all enjoyed the previous one. I'm really just writing based on my desires here, (so selfish, lol), but I just have to pop this question, even if it is stupid:  
Why is Sora always the innocent one? I mean, he's a guy, right?  
XD I know, it was stupid. Wasn't it? Well, in this one-shot keep that question in mind.

Boy's Club

2nd Story

Title: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Summary: Nice guys finish last. So why is she dating Sora? That's what Kairi always thought, until a night in the rain changed everything.

_I'm not one to fall for cheesy pick up lines _

_It's not a trap that's big enough for me_

_Yank on my chain and turn around, call out my name_

_Make it hurt into the night_

_If it's you, then maybe, baby,_

_A rose colored trap of sweet deception_

_You act innocent, but it's really just a lie_

_Rose colored trap, Fangs hidden by a lie_

_My wolf in Sheep's Clothing_

* * *

"Kairiiiiii..."

Sora yawned and slumped over Kairi's current conquest of bags and shoe boxes from the Islands shopping mall. He had agreed to go out on this date so he might as well stick with it.

Kairi turned toward him irritably. "What is it?"  
"Can we go home now?"  
Sora: a nice boy, but that was all. At least that's what her friends said when she came back from her "vacation" and her and Sora continued where they left off. When she was younger she used to think it was sweet how unassuming and nice he was. Never complaining (until now), always doing what she said, and always faithful. In fact, those are the qualities which she had liked most about him other than his courage.

So why was is it that lately Kairi has been feeling bored in their relationship?  
She handed the credit card to the cashier and then picked up her her latest purchase, ignoring Sora's outstretched hand and his offer of help. They clumsy, because of him running smack into the glass door, left the shopping center and headed for the street.

"Are all these things really needed?"  
"You want me to look beautiful, don't you?" Kairi snapped at him. Trying to find her keys in her purse, anything that would keep her from looking at him. She hated to act like a bitch, but his presence right now was annoying.  
Why didn't she like Riku? That was the question on her lips. But out of anyone, Riku seemed to suit Sora better. They were complete opposites!  
Then, as if to rain its curses on the couple, it started to rain.

"_Argh! Why can't anything go right!"_ Kairi thought to herself. Her hair was ruined, her clothing was ruined, her purchases were ruined and this was a horrible evening.   
And to top it all off, Sora dropped the bags.

"Whoops... Look, Kairi, next payday I'll--"  
As he bent to pick them up, Kairi turned on him.

"Just forget it Sora!"

On the edge of her lips were the cruel words, "what payday? You don't even have a job, I wish you had just stayed with Riku on the other side of that island and never came back!"

Hating herself for her words, Kairi ran away into the night.

* * *

"I...hate...this..."

It wasn't Sora's fault. It was hers. Ever since things had returned to normal it had been awkward between them. The distance between them, Sora's mind frame and her own growth after two years had changed things. Sora stilled acted like a kid and treated her like she was still a little girl. She didn't know how to act around him. The things she wanted to talk about, (the newest tv show, the latest pop song, that new idol on tv), were so different from what he wanted to talk about. Fighting, and traveling, and playing around. For crying out loud the boy still played with a wooden sword!

Kairi punched the brick wall next to her. She had stepped into an alley to get out of the rain. Her hair was a mess in her face and her thin clothing, a trendy short skirt and tank top with sandal high heels, was ruined. Why had she dressed up to meet him if they were going shopping? Why was she trying so hard?

Kairi bit her lips to hold back tears. She didn't want this. She didn't want this indecision and this hatred between them. She still liked him, some part of her did, but things the way they are were killing her.  
Kairi leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, listening to the rain.

A clatter to the darkness to her right brought her out of her daze.

What was that sound? Footsteps? She was sure she hadn't been followed. Kairi stepped toward the noise.

"Hello?"

No reply. Just as she was about to see what it was, an arm came out of nowhere and pulled her into an embrace.  
At first, she thought it was Sora. But as laughter rose up around her, Kairi stared into the face of an unfamiliar man.

"Hey sweet cheeks, are you lonely tonight?"

Oh, God, why now?

Kairi struggled against him, broke free, and fell against one of his companions who pushed her back toward the man.

"Let me go!"  
"Why? Got some where to go? I don't see a boyfriend? Hey, how about you come back to my place and dry off--"

"--Or we can dry you off right here!" Someone chimed in.

Kairi screamed as they dragged her toward the mouth of the alley. The street was empty, a storm had started, and she was alone.

"_Sora."_

"Let her go."  
As if struck frozen, Kairi and her attackers halted as someone stepped from the shadows of the alley. Lighting flashed and a very wet and angry looking Sora emerged.

With his hair un-spiked because of the rain, and hatred clouding his face, Sora appeared completely different. A man, not a boy, to Kairi.

And a man holding not a wooden sword, but her forgotten umbrella.

Laughter crackled around them, breaking the illusion.  
"Ha, ha, what are you going to do with that?"

The man holding on to Kairi grabbed her by the waist and dug his fingers into her cheeks, rubbing her against him.  
If possible, Sora's face took on demonic qualities.

"Ha, little boy you best go away and leave adults to play before I--"  
SMACK

The next sound to follow up that was the crack of bone and the _ping_ of shattered teeth falling to the pavement.

The ringleader of the gang lay on the ground dazed, his front teeth missing and him comically staring at the ground with his eyes bulging out of his head.  
Using the confusion to his advantage, Sora painfully grabbed Kairi by the wrist and pulled her toward him.

"You...You... Hit me..."

Sora grinned. The blood dripping off the umbrella mixed with the puddles in the pavement. He pushed Kairi roughly behind him and she stumbled and fell, he took no noticed as he waved the umbrella in front of his face and taunted:

"What's this about leaving adults to play? You're not man enough to handle my women, bitch."

"_Bitch?"_ Kairi wasn't insulted by his words, but stunned. This was a Sora she had never seen. This time it was her whose eyes were almost out of their skull.

Sora threw the umbrella in the man's face and cracked his knuckles. "Who else touched her? The next man will be a dead man. Come on, now! I thought you fellas were adults? Then hit me then!"

One look at his face and they cowered and ran.

"Don't think I'll forget this kid!"  
Sora shouted back. "Yeah, well grow some balls before you challenge this "kid" again!"  
Sora turned toward her and Kairi's mouth dropped open.  
It was impossible. Yet his happy-go-lucky smile was in place again. Sora bashfully rubbed the back of his head.  
"Sorry you had to see that, Kairi, are you okay?"

The rest of the night was a blur as she passed out.

* * *

All Kairi remembered was Sora carrying her on his back to a shrine nearby. It was abandoned, but it was dry. They used to come here as kids and catch stray cats.

Those times were long gone though. Sora was a man now, and she wasn't a little girl. Kairi felt it as she clung on to his powerful shoulders.

She was upset at him, but mostly herself. Sora had shown her a side of him she had never know and Kairi was scared of it. Scared of a Sora she didn't know.

Maybe she had gotten mad at him earlier because she realized just how weak she was. How she had used him all this time, depending on him to always be their for her. Taking out her frustrations on him. Not thinking about how Sora felt of her. Just another "nice guy", until now. She had always depended on him like the weakling she was.

And now that this "other" Sora had appeared. She didn't know how to handle the unknown.

"Kairi, we're almost there!"

She clung on to his shoulders, leaning into his warmth, and passed out again.

When she awoke, she was on a cot in the shrine and Sora was sitting next to her. He was drying his hair with a piece of cloth found in the shrine. Kairi stared at him while he worked the tangles out of his hair and cursed softly about hair gel.

Hair gel. At a time like this? Just like her old Sora.

Kairi giggled and Sora smiled at her. The demonic vision from the alley came back and Kairi turned away from him, rolling up into a little ball.

"I'm sorry..."  
"What?" Kairi turned back toward him, shoving the fear away and seeing past everything before this moment.

"I'm sorry...but I had to remove your clothes to keep you from getting wet!"

It was like a pan fell out of no where and dropped on her head.  
"YOU WHAT!!???"

Kairi sat up and hit him in the face with her pillow, jumping out of bed and screaming at him until she noticed that he had replaced her wet clothes with new ones.

The clothes she had brought were in the corner. They were wet, but he had managed to bring every single bag here.

Sora protected his head from the last onslaught of Kairi's rage and then apologized again. "I'm sorry! If I hadn't taken so long to get your bags here you wouldn't have—Kairi? What's wrong? Are you made at me?"  
She turned away from him, her shoulders trembling.

"Sora... You idiot..."

"What?"  
"Who cares about the bags!? I almost died back their! Doesn't that matter to you!?"

It was horrible, and ungrateful, but she was so confused and distraught that Kairi didn't know what else to do right now.

"I'm going home." She started to walk away from him, muttering the last sentence angrily.

An arm came out of the darkness. Kairi gasped as Sora pinned her against the door frame.

His face, handsome and intense and twisted in rage, stared down at her inches from her own.

"Is that all the thanks I get? For saving your life?"  
"Sora, I--"  
"I don't want to hear it!!"  
Kairi closed her mouth as Sora leaned in closer.

"Let me tell you something, I didn't go through all I did to come back to you to play the "nice boy" with you so you could rip my head off at every opportunity. You walk right in front of me everyday expecting things to be how they used to be without even considering me, about what I want and need from you."

Sora leaned in closer, Kairi flinched. He smirked, but she didn't see it. All she felt was his lips on her ear as he whispered the next part to her.

"You don't even consider how badly I've wanted you these past two years. How much I really wanted to take your clothes off and do all the things to you that would make you scream for me, beg for me."  
Sora leaned into her body and Kairi gasped. Startled at the feeling his body. The warm feel of his skin and muscles, his hot breath and his arms.

He smiled, somewhere between boyish and devilish and oh so naughty.

"Now... What do you think of that?"  
What ever he was about to say, or do, next was lost as Kairi jumped toward him and and hungrily devoured his kiss. Lighting illuminated their profile and drowned her cries.

* * *

Later, much later.

"Kairiiiiii..."

Kairi sighed and put an arm over her tired eyes. They were walking home. He had paid for a taxi for her stuff, (after threatening the driver that he would rip out his eyes if all of it wasn't delivered) and now he was walking her home. Sora had taken off his jacket and given it to her, Kairi was holding his hand.

"Kairi, I'm hungry! When we get home can you make me a sandwich?"  
And to believe this was the boy who, hours ago, had promised (and delivered) her extraordinary, out of this world sex. This same guy who seemed like a lamb and still acted like a kid.  
The same guy who is a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Sora, for the last time, I'll make you a damn sandwich when we get home!"  
Sora leaned into her and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"That's not something a princess should say. But then again," he whispered the last part to her, his smile once again devilish. ", The words you said to me last night in bed were pretty unladylike like too."  
Kairi blushed, at a loss for words.

Sora turned and yawned, repeating his earlier complaints for a sandwich.  
This boy, this man,

This wolf in sheep's clothing.

(A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing—End (2/29/07)


	3. Portrait of You

**Author's Notes:** I really didn't expect any review for this collection (especially after the second story), but I'm still disappointed. Why spend time on a story no one reads? So for now on all the chapters after this are posted on my website. Please people, no flames? If you don't like it, don't review. If you liked it, then fill free too. These aren't suppose to be read as "deep meaning" pieces. They're suppose to be light-hearted and fun. Well, some of them anyway. This might be a little deep, and a little sad, actually. But not a tearjerker. I hope.

Boy's Club

3rd Story

Title: Portrait of You

Summary: (Prequel to KH2) Roxas, Number XIII of the Organization, is in charge of guarding a young witch. Expecting a night of boredom, when the girl innocently asks to paint his picture he eagerly accepts in order to kill time. But what ends up being painted is not a canvas, but the heart.

"Can I... Can I draw you?"  
Roxas blinked and stepped away from the window. Outside it was dark, clouds obscured the moon and it was raining. It always seemed to be raining.

"Excuse me?"  
The girl he was in charge of watching ducked down behind her sketch pad and bowed her head politely. "That is... If you want to, if it's allowed and everything."

He looked at the clock, 1:30am. It's not like there was anything better to do. "Sure kid. Why not? It's not like I'm going anywhere."  
The girl looked up and smiled, her teeth dazzling in the darkness. "My name's Naminé, what's **your** name?"  
The girl, Naminé, emphasized the "your"—making it impossible for him to give off the customary number that was already on his lips.  
Roxas frowned, and then sighed. "Roxas. Why do you want to know anyway? It's not like you'll live long enough to remember it."  
It was out of his lips before he could take it back. Impossibly cruel, but true. He could see no reason why the Organization would continue to hold on to this girl. Her usefulness was in trapping Sora. Which she had failed to do. An operation which she botched by revealing herself and telling Sora the truth, helping him, and going against the Organization. Which was why he was here waiting for the higher ups to decider her fate.  
Also... They are both Nobodys. Even if they did let her go, where would she go? What kind of life would she have outside of these walls? In a way they were doing her a favor.

"Roxas... I like it." Naminé smiled again. His name on her lips came off of her tongue like a favorite ice-cream flavor. It startled him, no one had ever said his name with any joy before.

But then reality set in. It wasn't joy, just a manipulation. They couldn't feel joy.

"Look, are you going to do this or not?"  
"Oh, sorry." Naminé stood up and walked toward him.

"Ah!"

CRASH

Stupid... And lame and horribly uncool. She had reached out toward him and instead of staying calm he had reacted stupidly, tripping over his chair and falling on to his back.

"Ow...ow...ow... Dammit..."  
"Are you okay?" Naminé asked. "Maybe I should call someone?"  
_"Yeah, and let them see what kind of a loser I am? No thanks."_ Roxas thought, thinking of his best and only friend Axel. If he could see him like this he would never stop talking about it for weeks.

"How about you just keep your distance?"  
Naminé looked distraught, but then smiled. "Sorry, but I can't do that."  
_"What?"_

She gently reached out and touched his face, leaning down until they were on eye level. Her eyes, they seemed so familiar suddenly. As if those warm eyes had always been gazing at him.  
"You know... You don't have to do it alone."  
"What... What are you talking about?" Roxas weakly tried to slap one of her hands away as she moved to cup his face between her palms.

"Everyone is alone. At first. So they think its natural to be alone. And maybe they're right, but... I need people. I need you. I think, yes, I think in a way this reflects art."  
_"What the hell is she talking about?"_ Were his subconscious thoughts. None of this made any sense...

But in a way it made perfect sense.

Naminé looked sad suddenly and stood up, looking out from the same window he had gazed out of moments before. "Art is a reflection of a person's self. What that person feels, if they're happy, if they're sad, all their emotions. Especially on a still life, which is a reflection of life. Of one person seen through another's eyes. Who that person is, what they want, where they're going. No two still lifes, even if they're done by the same person about the same subject, no two are ever alike because what the artist sees is always different. It's constantly changing!"

"I don't understand what you're talking about." Roxas interrupted, picking himself off the floor and brushing the dust off his robes. "About paintings and emotions and people... We're Nobodys! **We** don't have emotions and **we** don't understand life. We're imitations!"

Flustered, Naminé turned toward him. "Don't you think I know that! Don't you think I understand! You assume that just because I'm not you and I'm not a part of your "organization" that I don't matter! Marluxia picked me off the street, seeing my "talent", gave me a name and used me. He died... Right there before my eyes and I didn't feel anything. Nothing at all! So don't tell **me** about **our** emotions."

Lightening cracked and they turned away from each other, both angry and disturbed by the words of the other.

"Imitations... They also exist in art." Naminé continued after awhile. "They're copies that someone made so that people everywhere can enjoy the original. Copies bought and sold by people who may never see or own the original themselves. Though they have less value, they are just as beautiful. But they are not the original. That's what we are. Imitations of people. And that's why I want to paint you, because I'm curious about what an imitation of an imitation will look like."  
Roxas didn't know what to say. It was the first time he had argued with someone outside of the Organization and the first time he had thought deeply about who he really was.  
"An imitation of an imitation..." He muttered under his breath, repeating her words. Why was she telling him this? Wasn't she the one that believed that they weren't complete, that they all had to return to their original bodies? Yet she was telling him to value himself. In her own way, and through art, she was telling him to value himself as someone outside of the Organization. Even if he wasn't a person.

"Sit down." Naminé stood behind him and forced him into a chair. She arranged the position of his face to her liking, combed back his hair, and turned on a nearby lamp. Her usual crayons were ignored in favor of a simple child's watercolor set and watercolor paper.

For several seconds they sat there, staring at each other, then Naminé looked away and began to paint.

The intensity of her eyes made him embarrassed, but Roxas refused to look away from her confident strokes of the brush and her eyes and wondered what she was seeing, what he looked like through them.  
Did she even see anything? Did she believe her own words? Roxas thought over these questions and an hour and then another hour passed.

The rain had stopped and dawn came when they were interrupted.

"Yo, Roxas, how's babe-watch going?" Axel joked as he stepped over the threshold with a bag of dough nuts in his hand.

"Huh?" Roxas looked up as if from a trance. "What are you doing here?"  
"What am I doing here? Are you becoming a model or something? Since when did you like paintings?"  
Hearing the humor in his voice, Roxas' ears went red. "You're wrong! It's just something to—"

"It's finished."

"Huh?" Both Roxas and Axel turned toward Naminé at her sudden announcement.  
"What's finished?" Axel asked as he stepped around Roxas to view what Naminé had finished painting.

Before he could touch it, Naminé took it off of the easel and rolled it up and held it out to Roxas.

"Here, I hope you like it. Please don't open it until I leave though."  
Before Roxas could say anything, his superiors came and took Naminé away. It will be over a year before they see each other again. And when they do meet again he will not remember her.

She turned and smiled at him, repeating her last words of her wish for him to enjoy her painting.

And then she was gone.

Axel, noticing the heavy atmosphere in the room, set down the bag of pastries and scratched the back of his head. "Want to fill me in on what just happened?"

Roxas started unrolling Naminé's painting, almost not hearing what Axel was saying.

"I mean, what really happened? You were alone the whole night with this girl, and then I find you here and she's painting you like you two are on the Titanic!"

This time Axel's sentence finally broke through the fog in his brain. "It wasn't like that!"

As Roxas protested (blushing all the while), Axel managed to sneak a peek at the painting.

"Hahaha..."  
"What? What's so funny?"  
"Dude, I think you got scammed. That's the crappiest painting I've ever seen!"

Angry at Axel's criticism, and confused, Roxas looked down to see...

That the portrait was empty. The paper was absolutely blank.

"What!?"

Axel started to roll on the floor with laughter. "She tricked you! Totally tricked you! I hope you didn't pay her. Who knows, maybe she'll become the next Van Gogh or something? Better save that painting Roxas, you might be able to sell it for a million dollars or something in the future."

"That... That girl..." Roxas stood up out of his chair violently. For a minute all he could see was red. She had tricked him! All that crap about wanting to see an "imitation of an imitation" and this was all he got for his efforts, for his wasted time? He should have never went along with it!  
He started to leave the room, but then turned back. One of her crayons was laying on the chair, a white crayon and underneath it a brush pointing toward the window.

The window... She had been facing the window. His back had been to the window and he had been so focused on her he hadn't noticed.

Roxas rushed toward the chair and picked up the crayon, letting his portrait fall from his hands.  
The sun came through the window, illuminating the drops of water still clinging to the glass, and the city was lit up in shades of pink and pale orange and violet. Like the...

"Like the color of her eyes..."  
"What?" Axel stopped laughing and turned to look out of the window, trying to see what he was looking at.

No, not the color of her eyes. Her eyes were blue. Blue like his. But at night, her eyes had been violet. Like the color being chased away by the dawn.

The clouds were lifting, turning white and being banished by the light.

"_Art, is a reflection of a person's self. What that person feels, if they're happy, if they're sad, all these emotions. Especially on a still life, which is a reflection of life. Of one person seen through another's eyes. Who that person is, what they want, where they're going. No two still lifes, even if they're done by the same person about the same subject, no two are ever alike because what the artist sees is always __different. It's constantly changing!"_

Naminé, those were her words.

He could understand her words now. Just like the sun, tomorrow this view would be different. Tomorrow he would be different. This sunrise, even if it came like a thousand before them, this sunrise was just a copy of yesterdays, but it was different. He would not see this one again.

Just like she would not see him again. Not like this.

It is impossible to paint a perfect sunrise. It is impossible to paint an exact likeness of a person. And it is also impossible to make an imitation of an imitation. Because even if he is an "imitation"...

Roxas picked up the previously forgotten blank portrait and held it up to the light. As the sun's early rays his it his face wasn't shadowed by the blank piece of paper, but illuminated by it.

...He is himself. And there is only one of him. And his true self, even if he is not a person, is impossible to paint. Because you can not paint what was never there.

Or what a person, even a Nobody, really is by looking on the outside.

(Portrait of You—End 7/2/08)


	4. Aftertaste

**Author's Notes:** Hey y'all, (hey to the people reading but not reviewing anyway) I lied. I will finish this on , but this will be the last chapter in this collection.  
I know, so sad right? :C Well, don't be down about it, maybe I'll do this again sometime. Maybe I'll find something to add to this one day. Anyway, here's the last one.

Disclaimer: Because this disappeared for a long while. But since you're on , shouldn't you already know this? I don't own. Square Enix and Disney does. But this fan fiction is all mine.

* * *

Boys Club

4th Story

Title: Aftertaste

Summary: (Continuation of "How to Bake a Cake") Riku gets asked out by a girl in his last year of high school. While he accepts her sweets and stares out over the sea eating them, he remembers how the tastes of sugar and tears blend together so perfectly. Riku/ Naminé

"Here! Um... This is for you..."

Riku looked down at the small girl that had suddenly appeared at his side. From the looks of her a sophomore, or freshman, figures.  
This girl didn't know. Didn't understand his policy when it came to women or, from the package in her hands, sweets.

Riku put down his book and took off his reading glasses, he opened his mouth to refuse her, but with one shy bow the girl was gone.

Later, looking out over the sea from the school rooftop, Riku opens the white package she had held out to him. It was girly, with a white ribbon and little red hearts and yellow tulips and daises for wrapping paper.  
A sweet smell wafted up from the package. Cookies. Maybe cake mixed in that sugary cinnamon spice too.

Naminé had loved cake.  
For a moment, Riku's face crumpled under the weight of his emotions, and he was tempted to throw the whole thing into the sea, but then he thought better of it.

It was littering. Plus he wasn't alone on the rooftop.

Riku sighed and looked out at the sea. This was so troublesome, the feelings of others. Why couldn't they leave him be and let him forget? Or let him remember and be alone with his memories.

Whispers from his far left. "There he goes again, poor girl, doesn't she know that Riku doesn't care about anyone? He's heartless. Like ice or something."  
Another voice. "Shush, don't let him hear you!"  
Riku closed his eyes and blocked the voices out. Unconsciously his hand stole into the package and he popped a small cookie into his mouth and grimaced at the taste.

They smelled sweet, but they were burnt. A bitter aftertaste mixed with the smell of the sea and the salt in the air, only the sugar sprinkling the top was sweet.

A sweet, yet salty, bitterness. Just like tears.

Like the tears he had shed for Naminé, for himself, so long ago.

Naminé would have loved these sweets, probably would have been friends with the girl who gave them to him. Like Naminé, the girl couldn't cook, but her persistence made up for that.

It hurt, just thinking about her, and Riku almost gagged on the aftertaste lingering in his mouth, making him remember and want to forget and be sick at the same time.

This was why he hated sweets.  
Sora ran up to him. "Hey Riku! Oh... Another one, huh?"  
His friend chuckled, reaching out for a cookie. Riku held them just out of his reach and smiled to hide his pain. "Yeah, another one."

"You know," Sora commented as he glared at his friend and then at the sweet confections just out of his arm's reach. "if you keep this up Riku you'll never get a girlfriend. You're notorious for crushing every girl's heart that has ever walked into this school. Not only that, but on Valentines day, Christmas, and even Easter, you always manage to destroy, crush, and annihilate any candy that a girl gives you with a withering stare. You're a lady killer. What did sweets ever do to you?"  
Riku temporarily was stunned by his friend's words, then regained his composer. "Nothing, I just don't like sweets."  
"Well then..." Sora held out his hands, a greedy look in his eyes and a sweet smile on his face.

Riku sighed and handed over the package to Sora.

* * *

It was dark, here in his room. Riku tossed an turned in bed before finally giving up. Every time he tired to go to sleep something would wake him up. The smell of sugar and spice, or the memory of Naminé's hair in the sunlight.

Sometimes Riku wished he could go back to those days. Even if it meant not having his own body.

Even if it meant Sora staying asleep forever and Kairi forgetting them.

Riku sat up guiltily. He shouldn't think these things, the past couldn't be changed. It was wrong of him to even wish it.

Besides, Naminé would hate him if she knew. She had wished for this more than anyone.

In the middle of the night, in her room up on the highest floor, covered in shadows and the light of the moon, she had brushed his white hair and sat with him. He couldn't remember everything they had talked about, sometimes they hadn't even talked at all. In the early days he would just stand there in a corner while she finished up some drawing or just stood outside her door listening to her breathe, making sure she wasn't escaping.

But she never did. And she never hated him either. She didn't judge him or the choice he had made. Naminé hadn't been controlled by regret or the need for revenge like Ansem and Riku had. She had just did as the asked, of what had demanded of her, and smiled.

And all she had asked in return were simple things.  
Like a cake, or maybe some cookies. Muffins in the morning or a piece or two of candy.  
Or homemade ice cream.

Riku smiled at the memory of one particular incident involving an ice cream scoop and a window, then moaned in despair. He couldn't even remember her favorite flavor. Nor could he remember her favorite color or the music she had favored.

And there had been music. And books. Those two things were all she had had. But now he was forgetting them.

A sob turned into laughter. It was just as she had wished.

Lying together, like brother and sister—never anything else, Riku had not taken their relationship that far, not in that body—Naminé had asked Riku if he was happy.  
Groggy, and with her small frame curled against his body, Riku had replied that yes, he was happy.

"Even though I'm not human?"  
Riku had stiffened and tired to sit up, to tell her that she was wrong, to tell her that she was human.

But they both knew otherwise. Naminé had sat up and covered his lips with her own, silencing him.

"No. Please don't lie to me Riku. I hate it when you lie. It hurts."  
And then she had cried and Riku had tired without success to comfort her.

But as if her tears were a faucet that could easily be stopped, Naminé had stopped crying suddenly and looked up at him.

Her eyes weren't even red. Her cheeks, just a second ago wet, were now dry. Riku felt his mouth growing dry as well as he stared into her eyes.

For a minute, Riku imagined that this must be what the eyes of the Nobodys he fought looked like. The eyes he could never see, the eyes always hidden.

There was nothing in those eyes. Just a vast emptiness. Nothing was reflected, not even himself.

Doll eyes. They scared him.

And then she came back to herself, slowly, and it was his Naminé again.

Seeing the look on his face, Naminé looked puzzled, and then shocked and then apologetic. As if she had let him see an embarrassing side of her.

But she had also looked defiant. As if saying: _This is who I am._

"I'm not human Riku. Those were Kairi's emotions, her memories of pain. Not mine. Even my love for you..." Naminé reached up and brushed back stray strands of Riku's hair and he leaned into her hand, the warmth there despite the chill in the room. "Is Kairi's."  
But she had been wrong about that. Naminé had been wrong about a lot of things.

Her love was not Kairi's love. Kairi had respected him, was his friend still, and had mourned for him as she had Sora when she had thought them loss, but she did not love him. Maybe she had had a crush on him, but her heart belonged to Sora.

For a time, Riku had considered taking Kairi away from Sora. It was possible that somewhere, deep inside, Naminé existed.

But if so, even if he were happy, what about Sora? And it would all be a lie anyway. He would just end up hurting himself.

Naminé is gone. Forever.

Yet still, he bakes the cakes she likes even though he can no longer remember the flavor. And he sings the song she sang, the song she had loved. And he once more dons the apron and commands the kitchen to chase the night away.

And afterwards, he feels better. The dawn comes and he looks at the cake he has made.

"_If Naminé were here, it wouldn't look so nice. It would be messy, and probably already gone."_ Riku says to himself, thinking instead of saying it out loud so he would not break the stillness and the peace in his heart.

"Someday you'll be happy. This is the right thing to do." Naminé had told him that on one of their last days together, when he went to meet Roxas in a fit of childish anger and curiosity.

Riku wanted to say that she was wrong, but he knew in his heart that she was right. Had been right all along.

Let him have his memories. He had his fun, his happiness with Naminé. And he knew love, something which most people went a lifetime without feeling. He had his time with her. And he had loved her like no woman every before him.  
And no woman after her.  
Even if she had been a Nobody. And a troublesome girl.

Riku smiles, and then laughs and swipes an arm across his face to dry his tears. He walks to the balcony off the kitchen and brings the cake with him.  
And for the first time in a very long time, he takes a bite. Smelling sugar and the salt air, Riku tastes the future.  
Maybe, Riku thinks as he starts to taste the bittersweet aftertaste of the cake, I will go out with that girl after all.

Riku smiles.

And dawn breaks over the new world.

(Aftertaste—8/29/08)

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**Author's Notes:** This was pretty rushed, but my overall theme is there.  
This one-shot was about getting over love while the first, "How to Bake a Cake", was finding it. While Riku will always love Naminé, it is time for him to move on. When you lose a love one, it can be devastating, but you are still alive. And while you may be living without them, and while you may find someone new to love, don't forget that love either. Riku in the end is deciding to move on, but he also decides that he wants to keep his memories. Not lapse into a comma of anger, sorrow, and forgetfulness that he was throwing himself into.

I hope you enjoyed these four one-shots, even if I did end them with a sad twist and they were Naminé centric. (I'm sorry people, but to me, besides Riku, the Nobodys in KH2 were the best characters, hands down.)

Maybe I'll do a fan fiction exploring what happened to Naminé, her and Riku's untold story, someday.

Or maybe not. Who knows?

Thank you for reading.


End file.
